


Let's Celebrate

by Waitingontatennant



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waitingontatennant/pseuds/Waitingontatennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Molly Hoopers birthday, and a rather manic Sherlock Holmes has seized the opportunity to convey the depth of his feelings towards her in the form of a birthday gift. Much to the bemusement of his onlookers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Three hours had now gone by since a frantic Sherlock Holmes had begun to dissemble the living room of 221b. He had begun with his desk, eventually proceeding to the left side of the room until he reached his book case and could go no further. He continued in an anti-clockwise route. For a rather small room he had managed to drag the procedure out far longer than required. It became obvious that he was endeavouring to look for something that didn’t exist, but as is the Sherlock way, he was resistant to give up. Choosing alternatively to take short brakes in between laps to experiment in an attempt to aid his thinking power.

The only witness to this manic scene was a now very anxious Mrs. Hudson. Mania was an occupational hazard when living with Sherlock, indeed it was a reality to find body parts placed in remarkable hidings. She still has nightmares of the finding a disembodied hand floating in a vat of acid in Sherlock’s kitchen sink. Highly dangerous she remarked to him.

The Sherlock that now appeared in front of her however was something completely new.

“Oh John! _Thank God_ you’re here! He’s gone mental, it’s finally happened. I’m sure I heard him beating something with a riding crop earlier, could you?”

“Sure Mrs. Hudson, why don’t you fetch us some tea?”

Clearing his throat in anticipation, John now directed Sherlock.

“Sherlock?”

“Oh what now? I’m _busy_!”

“Hello to you _too,_ what exactly are you doing? Is this, something to do with a case?”

“No actually, I’m trying to decide on a present.”

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ The thought of associating Sherlock and something as human as presents confused John. It was true that Sherlock had been known to have his moments of generosity, but usually part of an apology or a grand gesture related with an event. To which John could think of none.

 _“_ A present, its Molly’s birthday.”

“A _birthday_ present? For _Molly_? _”_

 _“_ Yes John, really it isn’t that hard.”

“Sherlock, you never remember birthdays let alone buy people presents.”

Sherlock now stopped midway through searching his book case to turn in John’s direction, armed with an expression that if you didn’t know better you’d say was hurt “I think you may disregard my recent record. I have been _dead_ for two years!”

“Three weeks ago.”

“What?”

“My birthday, it was three weeks ago.”

“ _Was it?”_

“Sherlock, you were at the dinner!”

“ _Was I?”_

 _“_ Christ Sherlock, what did you think we were there for?”

“I don’t know, celebrating a case or something. I find those things rather dull.”

“You are utterly ridiculous.”

Both their smirks turned into laughter.

“Since you’re here you may be some help to me. You’re married, what would you buy Mary for a present?”

Sherlock didn’t seem to realised that he just liked his relationship to Molly with John and Mary’s marriage, despite the fact that it made John smile to think of this mistake he made no comment of it understanding the delicacy of the situation.

“Right, well… Jewellery, I’d buy her Jewellery.”

“Too cliché, think!”

“Oh I don’t know Sherlock, something expensive? Everyone likes expensive things.”

“Have you even met Molly John? A present to or from Molly has to have some sentiment attached.”

His eyes flicked towards his mantelpiece, resting there only for a second, long enough however for John to follow his gaze. Which whilst it seemed initially odd landed on the skull perched on the left side of the mantel. A present from Molly then? That little discovery told more about Sherlock than it did Molly, for it to be displayed proudly in clear view showed that it evidently meant a great deal to him. For a person that only recently discovered his fondness for Miss. Hooper he cared rather deeply for her.

“So, you… and Molly then?”

“What? John what exactly are you insinuating?”

“Nothing, no nothing. Just asking if there was, you know.”

“What? Please John try to make some sense.”

“Well I’ll take that as a no then, never mind. Look Sherlock, you really don’t need to put yourself under this much stress over a present. It’s just Molly, I’m sure she’ll be amazed that you even remembered.”

“ _Just Molly? Just Molly?_ You clearly aren’t grasping it, you’re useless.”

“Well try me Sherlock, actually explain what’s going on!”

“If it… if it wasn’t for her John I wouldn’t be here. I cannot explain to you how many times she’s saved me and how she continues to do so now. I don’t feel that she actually understands just how much her input in my life means to me, how much she means to me. My words are lost on her, that's why I need something, something to try and convey that to her. That’s the best way I know how to do it John, even if it only shows a dent of my true appreciation it's the best I can do.”

For the first time since Sherlock’s return John was now able to see the true extent of the effect that Molly had on him. No one indeed had quite the same effect on Sherlock as Dr. Hooper has. She has been able unlock the much hidden emotions of Sherlock Holmes, the ones he was previously afraid to display. 


	2. Chapter 2

“ _No, no, no!_ Are you trying to be ridiculous? Or does it require minimal effort?”

It had been an hour and a half since John had been summoned by a rather distressed Mrs. Hudson to try and talk some sense into Sherlock. Between that time he had reeled of a series of suggestions of an appropriate birthday present for Molly; none of which, according to Sherlock were adequate enough.

“Well, you could make some suggestions yourself you know? _It was your bloody idea!_ Look, I-I don’t know why don’t you phone Greg?”

Sherlock continued to pace, spinning of a reply as if he was on auto pilot “ _who?”_

“Sherlock you know go- _Lestrade_!”

To this Sherlock stopped mid pace right in front of John, his eyes darting open although he never bothered removing his hands from their position under his chin, instead giving John a rather annoyed confused face “And why would I need his input in a situation such as this?”

“Well, he has known Molly for years. Maybe he can give a better insight in to what she might like.” To this Sherlock took the seat opposite the army doctor.

“Nonsense. I know Molly perfectly well, better in fact. She is _my_ pathologist. Anyway, the man’s going through a divorce I don’t think it’s suitable for him to be coming up with gift ideas for _other_ woman, do you?” Sherlock’s eyes never met John’s until the end of his speech, with so he sharply raised his chin into the air as an act of defiance that would not go out of place on a five year old child.

“And yet I am a married man with a child on the way and here I am.” John studied his friends face carefully for a few seconds, thinking over what he was about to say “Sherlock, are you- what-what is this?”

To this Sherlock rolled his eyes choosing to not return his friends eye contact “I told you John, I am trying to find a suit-“

“Right this isn’t working.” With this John rose from his seat and headed for the door, striking panic into Sherlock.

“ _Where are you going?”_

“Look mate, I’m clearly no help here. You want sentimental that has to come from you, not from me. It has to be something you and Molly have shared, something that means _something_ to you _both._ And once you found the right present take some time to find out why you’re doing all this, okay?”

“ _What?”_ Sherlock’s voice mirrored his panic stricken face.

“Nothing” With a small sigh John exited the room.

Sherlock’s mind replayed the events of the past hour, focusing particularly on John’s last words. And with that came the answer he was searching for, a smile erupting in his face.

“Of course.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Age was just a number Molly always told herself. It had no real impact on your life. She never did fret about her upcoming birthday’s, never dreaded the day when the big ‘4-0’ was upon her. To Molly you are who you are at 7 as you are at 70; to her age never took the life away from you, rather that you collected it up along the way displaying it in the small laughter lines around your eyes and your mouth and the stray grey hair’s that peppered the once dark locks.

Not to say that Molly never favoured birthdays. There was always something heart-warming about the lengths people would go to, to make you feel special on that one day a year. For Molly this person was her Father, he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that she knew she was loved. She never appreciated this more than when it was gone.

After moving to London to begin her pathology career Molly often spent these once special days alone, with a meal for one and a favourite film.

And then came Tom, with his hideous presents and never entirely thought out plans and Molly loved it. His ridiculous attempts to make her smile made her feel at home, and although it was never quite in the way she should, she truly did love him. But now he was gone too, and alone was what she expected the day ahead to bring.

With the sound of familiar footsteps approaching her lab doors it seemed that life had other plans “I can’t say late tonight Sherlock, I’ve got to get home” to what, she had no idea, but even for Molly the thought of cutting up cadavers on her birthday was not a pleasant one.

For a moment Sherlock looked disappointed, his attempts to cover this up with a slight smile were wasted as his eyes gave away everything “Ah, got plans have we?”

“Well, not exactly-“Molly looked away, almost feeling embarrassed.

“Good, we’ll see you at seven then.” Sherlock once again smiled, but this time it was filled with unease. He turned to leave but Molly’s voice stopped him.

“We? What, Where?”

“Me, John, Mary and Lestrade, and the Pub to… Celebrate” Sherlock’s become increasingly uncomfortable as Molly’s stare intensified on him.

“Celebrate, _what?”_ Sherlock’s unease now turned into confusion, the expression that had been directed towards Molly so many times before.

“Your birthday Molly, I just, I just thought-” his gaze never left Molly, the whole time his eyes scanned her face trying to discover her, as if he had never set eyes on her before.

“Oh! Okay”

“I’m…sorry” Sherlock’s head slightly shock, as if his brain couldn’t cope with the speed in which Molly mind had travelled.

“Okay, I said okay. I’d love to, in fact. Seven?” Molly bit her lip in an attempt to suppress the sly smile threatening to spread across her lips.

“Seven. I’ll text you with the details”

Molly and Sherlock held each other’s gaze for a moment too long, before Sherlock finally broke it and headed towards the lab doors.

“Oh Sherlock!” Molly moved slightly forward as she spoke, as if she was attempting to catch him. Her movement was never needed as Sherlock’s attention seemed to once again directed towards the petite woman before she even finished her cry “Yes?”

“Thank you.” This time she never tried to tam the smile erupting. With a sharp nod he left, leaving Molly stood gazing at the motion of the lab door slowly closing.

_What just happened?_

The idea that Sherlock had just put _himself_ into a social situation seemed ridiculous. It was ridiculous, it just wouldn’t happen. Oh god, had it happened? Had some sort of stress-induced hallucinogenic episode just occurred and she fantasied the whole thing? Looking around there was no evidence of Sherlock even being here. Molly walked back to her lab station to where she had been sat not 10 minutes ago. She was being ludicrous, _of course_ it had happened. Maybe she was simply reading too much into it. Sherlock was probably just asking her on behalf of John or Mary. But he said _we._ That little cluster of letters made Molly’s heart flutter. _He_ wanted to spend time with her on her birthday. It’s true that things had been different since his return, he tried in every situation they were placed together, to be extra gentle towards her feelings. Not including Sherlock’s little relapse, but even after being shot he had managed to mumble out a weary apology with great sincerity in his eyes. But this. This was something different altogether. This wasn’t some interaction demanded by work duties. This was something that friends did.

Molly was thinking far too much into this. Her heart rate had started to become erratic. She needed to calm down, get back to work. She stared down at the scattered paperwork fanned across her work top. No way would she be able to concentrate on this now. Looking down at her watch told Molly that there was only 45 minutes left of her shift. 2 hours 15, till she would be at the pub with Sherlock, oh and other people of course, but _with_ Sherlock.

                 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Tell me again why I’m doing this?” John was sat at Sherlock’s dining table parallel to his friend, trying to process the streams of information that Sherlock had spent ten minutes reeling to him.

“It’s not exactly a hard request John, if you would solider on and go along with the story, I would be grateful.” He formed a sarcastic grin that soon fell to allow his familiar composed expression to re-emerge. Sherlock was in the same hyperactive state as the last three occasions John had been called round to 221b. This amount of energy bouncing off him was one that John was only used to seeing in the man when he was working on a case, of which Sherlock was not. Apart from the whole ‘critical’ as Sherlock himself put it, case of Molly’s birthday.

“It just seems to me that you’re going all arse first about this. Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell her, instead of coming up with elaborate excuses to get her to go with you tonight? I mean I’m surprised she bought the whole ‘pub’ thing.” John had no doubts on Sherlock’s capacity of persuasion, having witnessed it on numerous occasions; with Molly being an easier victim than most. Lately though that hadn’t rung true. Molly was no longer afraid to question Sherlock’s motives. Indeed, recently the whole dynamic of their relationship seemed to, on some levels reversed.

“She’d of never believed it. In this circumstance the truth would seem more elaborate than the lie. She’d probably just suspect that I’m doing all this as part of a ploy to trick her into helping me with a case or something as ridiculous. The involvement of others automatically raises the authenticity. As ever, lies have details.” Sherlock’s hands began to move, coming together to take their familiar spot at his chin. His head moving and his eyes closing in sync with the movement till a subtle noise coming from John stopped him.

“Hmm.” His lips coming together to form a pout.

“What?”

“Is it ridiculous?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know. I was just thinking to myself earlier that I’d never seen you in this state before. Only when you were on a case” John let out a laugh a shock his head “You’re unbelievable do you know that? I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

“John-“

“No, Sherlock! Because if I find out that I’m right and this is some kind of cruel plan to lure that poor girl into, I don’t know, giving you unrestricted access to the fridge of body parts, or even if this ends up with Molly being hurt in anyway, then I swear Sherlock, I will kill you myself. And I know I am a _doctor_ but as I’ve said before, I’ve had my bad days.”

Sherlock’s eyes fell to his lap and didn’t reach John’s again until he had inhaled a breath and straightened his back “You’ve just proved everything I said right. How am I supposed to expect Molly to trust me after everything when you can’t even manage it?”

“We know who you are Sherlock, and we accept it. You can’t blame me for thinking it.”

“I don’t. But what kind of genius would I be if I didn’t have to capacity to learn” Sherlock gave John a sheepish smile, filled with hurt. Immediately making him feel guilt for his words.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go along with this, but I mean it Sherlock; don’t make me regret this.”

“Good!” The man clapped his hands and rose to his feet, immediately leaving behind any appearance of hurt making John tut under his breath. He darted to his desk in the living room to retrieve, what seemed to be a list, presenting it to John “I need you to pick up these after you’ve been to see Molly. The last one may be hard to find this late in the day but if needs must there are at least 4 parks in a 2 mile radius of Molly’s flat that you should be able to forage some from.” The man looked down as his friend, a frown developing along his brows “ _Well?”_

“ _Forage?_  Jesus, Sherlock there be at least 10 things on here, what do you need all this for? I thought you said-”

“Yes John but details are important, _details are the key_. Now please _do hurry._ ” Just before John reached the door Sherlock again spoke “Oh and em, _thank you.”_

***

 

Molly was now rushing around her small flat, leaving a trail of shoes and dresses in her path. This had been the situation since her shift at Bart’s had finished and she’d made her way home, some forty minutes ago. Even if she hadn’t a clue where they were going or what an appropriate outfit was, waiting for Sherlock to text with the detail was _torture_ ; and with there only being a just over an hour till they were due to all meet she couldn’t afford to wait around. But she had bigger worries than not being ready on time. The lack of contact from Sherlock, or indeed anyone made Molly fearful that maybe he had forgotten. Although that idea was a painful one, sadly it was a realistic one.

Just as these ideas began to creep into Molly’s mind, the doorbell rang. Suddenly the prospect of Sherlock actually remembering, and being mere feet from her seemed worse than him forgetting “Oh god, _oh god, oh god.”_ Running down her hallway, she stopped and backed up until she was in front of the floor length mirror attached to the wall, giving herself the once over, cringing at the overly clingy dress she’d been trying on but never actually dared to wear. Especially for just going to the pub. No, now Sherlock would see Molly and think she was trying to seduce him with her body “ ** _oh god._** _”_ Molly shock of the last thought and braced the last few steps to the door “Oh. John, Hi. You weren’t who I was expecting- he’s cancelled hasn’t he?”

“Oh no, no! Actually he’s just sent me over to make sure you’re still up for it? Nice dress by the way”

Molly had already made her way over to her sofa and was sat facing John, on hearing his last comment she sheepishly placed an oversized pillow over her torso, cradling it as a small child would with a teddy bear “Oh, it’s not really me” she let out a nervous giggle “I really should of returned it, I’m never going to wear it, that is I’m not wearing it tonight I mean. It doesn’t, well doesn’t suit someone like… me.” It’s true, the dress was distinctively un-Molly-like and it wouldn’t be a surprise if a similar dress adorned the wardrobe of those such as Anthea, but that’s not saying that Molly didn’t look nice. Well, she looked more than nice. The sharp red of the dress worked well with her pale, almost porcelain skin; also managing to highlight the subtle auburn tones that ran through Molly’s hair. And although the dress was figure-hugging, it still retained her modesty “Molly, I think you look _lovely.”_

The ever familiar blush travelled its way down from Molly’s cheeks towards her neck, threating to engulf her whole torso, matching the scarlet shade of her dress “Thanks.”

“So, tonight. Sherlock said he thought it might be easier if he picked us up along the way? That way we can all travel down together. I don’t think he trusts me and Mary to find the place on our own, sleep deprivation does terrible things to your brain. Oh speak of the devil.” John reached into his jean pocket to retrieve his phone, seeing a message from Sherlock, stating that everything was in order and he was just waiting on him “It’s Mary, she needs me to pick some stuff up for Maisie.”

“Oh, I’ll see you tonight then. Seven?” Molly rose to follow John to the door.

“Yeah seven, and look about the dress it really does look nice. I’m sure Sherlock’s got some overly posh wine bar in mind for tonight rather than an actual pub, so there’s no need to worry that you’ll be overdressed or anything. Just a thought.” John gave Molly a reassuring smile, trying to convince Molly of his sincerity and left, reaching into his back pocket of his jeans to look over Sherlock’s list. Leaving an overly excited Molly to rush back down her hallway to the same mirror she’d been positioned in front of not ten minutes ago, this time however her reflection was met with more positive thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly had found herself perched on the step outside her flat door. Waiting inside only meant that she kept catching fleeting glimpses of herself in the mirror; and she was determined that she would not change outfits _again._ Besides, she trusted John’s judgement. _It’ll be fine,_ she kept telling herself, _fine._  Sitting outside with the crisp air of the changing seasons and the calmness of suburban London, Molly couldn’t feel anymore at contrast with her surroundings. Her heart was racing, her hands fidgety and her mouth slightly turned up on one side with gleeful excitement

The serenity of the mid-evening day was disturbed, with the welcome arrival of a black car. One quite similar to Mycroft’s, well exactly alike, actually. As the car pulled up outside her home, the door closest to Molly opened. She was hoping that it would be Sherlock who chose to greet her first, but more rather expecting it be John or Mary, “Good evening, Miss Hooper.” The stars were being kind, that baritone voice belonged to one Sherlock Holmes.

“Enjoyable birthday so far, I hope?” He was leaning against the car door, hands in pockets and legs crossed at their feet. Looking rather delicious; suited as ever, clean white shirt but of course, no tie.

“I have a feeling it’s about to get better” She gave Sherlock a sly smile and saw him reciprocate, which kind of made her feel as if the whole of her street had suddenly become a vacuum, sucking the oxygen from her lungs and making her unable to breathe. Molly shook her head at how easily that man could affect her.

Sherlock broke their eye contact by reaching behind his back to grasp the door handle within his hand, moving to the right to allow it to open “Shall we?”

Once in the car Molly was very aware of the lack of Watson’s or Lestrade “Picking them up along the way?” Sherlock’s eyes faced forwards, his expression blank “They can’t make it unfortunately, parental duties call. Also I think Lestrade mentioned something about, urgent… paperwork, yes. He has urgent paperwork.” before Molly had time to reply, he shot her a sideways glance “Also, you do look rather stunning tonight, Molly” ending it with a smile. Although so was convinced that this was said in some attempt to make her flustered and not ask any more questions about the absences, she decided not to call him out on it, because damn him it had worked and he was _trying_.

The ride was a silent one, comfortably so. Each of them gazed out of their own car window, watching as they drove, the last of the sun melt into the sky, leaving behind the assortment of pinks and purples marbling the twilight heavens. As Molly’s eyes followed the sun as it met with the horizon a question arose in her mind “Sherlock, where are we going?”

“Mm- Oh, em it’s a surprise. Which reminds me, you’ll be needing this-“Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket and presented Molly with a length of white silk.

“And what do you expect me to do with that?” Molly face was confused and annoyed, she knew exactly where this was heading.

“I want you to wear it of course. Surprises are much easier to keep when you can’t peep.” Sherlock gave a sly smile and wink. Molly, reluctantly sighed and grabbed the silk from Sherlock’s palm, she attempted to tie it herself but he stopped her “Allow me.” She had no idea what was happening or where they were going, but she knew that she liked this version of Sherlock very much.

After another few minutes had elapsed the car came to a slow stop “We’re here.” Molly called out asking precisely where ‘here’ meant, but it was there was no response, Sherlock had already made it out the car and opened Molly’s door “Here, take my hand.” She obliged, with no real struggle.

After what seemed like an age of walking upstairs, then down stairs, around corners and more stairs they were again still. Sherlock released Molly’s hand and walked in front of her, reaching behind her to undo the bow at the back of her head. Once her eyes where open the only figure she could make out was Sherlock’s, still stood in front of her, and it was only his pale blue eyes that she could really see in the dark. Even after a few moments of adjusting Molly couldn’t identify any of her surroundings “Where are we?” The first thing Molly senses picked up was the slow melody of violin music playing somewhere in the background, not long after followed by the lights. Once Sherlock had moved back into his position at Molly’s side she was able to see her surroundings for the first time fully; and it took her breath away. Adorning the floor around her was what seemed like her thousands of small lights coiled around railings and the trees that were placed neatly around the space, in the middle was positioned was just one single table with two chairs.

 “Sherlock is this-“

“Covent Garden central market? Yes.” He looked sheepishly around the space. Even he could appreciate the beauty of the scene.

“But how, I don’t-“

“Mycroft. Pay’s to be related to the government. Sometimes.”

Molly laughed and shook her head, even Sherlock could be surprising sometimes.

“Around eight years ago this was the scene of our first case” with this Sherlock made his first attempt at looking at Molly, trying to gage some sort of reaction out of her.

“I know. The Bishop case.” Molly started laughing “Please, please don’t tell me you’ve brought me all this way to _look over a case._ ”

“What? No, no!” Molly’s expression softened to let Sherlock know that she was only being playful, so he continued “I just wanted to show that, well, you’ve been a big part of my life, Molly. And I, no matter how wrongly I show it, I will be forever grateful for that participation.”

Molly paused, thinking of something meaningful to say. It was always taken as an honour when Sherlock shared such raw emotions, especially, crucially, when they were genuine. In the end she settled on “So, I’m guessing no pub then?” _Don’t make jokes Molly._ She smiled a little when she heard laughter coming from her right “Afraid not.”

Sherlock placed his hand on the small of Molly’s back, moving her towards the table with him. Molly took the closet seat, sitting and removing her jacket, placing it neatly on the back of the chair. She looked up and saw Sherlock still stood, quietly behind her “Is everything _alright?”_

He looked dazed, almost panicky with such an intense stare “Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

He blinked himself from his daze “I was, I was supposed to take your jacket and then offer you your chair.” His eyes kept moving from Molly, to her jacket back to Molly.

“Oh” she let out a laugh of relief “Is that all? Christ Sherlock, I thought, well I thought we were going to get ambushed or something.” Molly smiled at Sherlock, but noticing that he wasn’t moving and still insisted on staring at her in such a way that put her at unease, she decided that this would take more “Sherlock it’s fine. Really, I wouldn’t of even noticed if you hadn’t of said. It’s still perfect. Now please, sit.”

Sherlock took a moment, nodded at Molly and took his place opposite her.

“I was so nervous that day, you know” Sherlock looked up at Molly, acknowledging that he heard her “It was my first real big high profile murder case, I was _so_ scared that I was going to balls it all up. And then there was you, you arse.”

Sherlock looked at Molly the way a hurt child would at his mother “What. What did _I_ do?”

“Oh don’t act all innocent, you know what you did! Came into my lab and manipulated me with all your brooding and intelligence. I seem to remember you hadn’t known me a week before you had me stealing supplies from the fridge.” They both shared a laugh, the kind of laugh that comes quick, is short, but leaves that aching smile on your face.

“I’m sorry, Molly Hooper.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock Holmes. I have to admit my life was pretty dull before you entered it.”

“No, I mean it.” He still smiled but he eyes were sadder than before, more reminiscent “I may not be able to deliver a custom apology for every wrong act that I have performed against you because, sadly, I fear there is too many. But I want, I _need_ you to know that I have acknowledged my mistakes and that I am _sorry_. And although it is out of my power to undo the events of the past, I endeavour to make amends for them.”

“Sherlock I-“

“Good evening, Miss Hooper, Mr Holmes, I trust you’ll be needing drinks?” Angelo stood before Sherlock and Molly, holding in one hand a bottle of what appeared to be expensive wine, and in the other two glasses.

“Impeccable timing as always Angelo, Molly?” Sherlock gestured to the wine.

“Ah, yes please. Wine would be great.” Molly gave a soft smile.

“Splendid. And I hope this ones being a gentleman tonight.” He gave Molly a sly wink and nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with his elbow. Which prompted her to giggle, mainly at the annoyance on Sherlock’s face “Dinner will be served soon. I’ll leave you two alone” As soon as the word ‘alone’ left his mouth Sherlock exhibited his first true smile since Angelo’s arrival. His happiness didn’t last long as he saw the middle aged man hurry back to the table “Oh, mustn’t forget” He reached into his trouser pocket and took out a match box and lit the thick candle at the centre of their table “Must get the atmosphere right.”

“ _Thank you.”_  Sherlock tried his best to be polite but the stern look in his eyes gave him away.

The starters and main came and went. They ate in silence, occasionally peering up at the other to offer a smile. It was Sherlock who first broke the silence.

“Do you remember our first conversation Molly?” Sherlock placed his knife and fork neatly in the middle of his plate despite his food barely being touched and sat back against his chair. His whole body language screaming ‘let’s chat’.

Molly looked up, food at the edge of her mouth just about to reach her lips. She paused momentarily, then mirrored Sherlock’s position “Of course. You said to me-“

“‘You’re clearly brilliant, so don’t act so stupid.’”

“Mm, yes. I think I should take that as a compliment coming from _you_.”

“I meant it, you know.”

“What? That I act stupid?” Molly recreated the false expression of being hurt.

“That you’re Brilliant. There’s a reason that I haven't worked with anyone else in eight years.”

“I thought, I thought it was because everyone else refused?”

“Mm, that also. But seriously you are. Luckily unlike me your brilliance is balanced with your kindness. Do you remember the last thing you said to be before I left England?”

“Sherlock. Did you really expect me to of thought about anything else in them two years? But please, do remind me.”

“‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you will have to go through when you’ve left the safety of your home. I don’t know what enemies you will face and the pain you will go through. And frankly I don’t want to. Knowing that I can’t help you kills me, so I’m doing the only thing I can, by helping you remember that when you feel alone and lost, that _you have a home_. And we’re all waiting. That you’re doing this for _us,_ and in turn we’re waiting.’ Does that sound about right?”

Molly remained silent. Hearing Sherlock recount her words from so long ago made them feel more real than they ever did circling around her head at night. It also brought back the pain. Doing everything she could to let the man know he was loved, so much, without actually being able to say the words. Because as hard as it was, uttering those small yet powerful little words wouldn’t make anything easier for Sherlock. And when a man is being sent off for an unknown amount of time, to unknown parts of the world, facing unknown but very real enemies, adding to that burden is a selfish thing to do. And so it went unsaid “Word for word.”

“My mind palace hasn’t let me down yet.” He smiled one of the gentlest smiles Molly had ever seen him make, just reaching the corners of his lips, never fully forming “And then.” He stood and walked a few feet to his left to an arched doorway, making his way back holding a package in one hand, and retaking his seat “I do believe the next thing you did was hand me this.” He placed the present on the side of the table, sliding it in Molly’s direction.

The present was a small oblong shape, wrapped in fine red paper sealed with a black ribbon. In between the ribbon and paper was carefully positioned a small cutting of Baby’s Breath. Molly looked up at Sherlock, her face filled with pure disbelief “There’s more?” Sherlock’s only response was to smile.

Molly opened the present carefully as if she was concerned that it would shatter within her hands, first gently undoing the ribbon, placing the Baby’s Breath to the side; and finally revealing her present “My book.” Molly looked up at Sherlock with wonder in her tear filled eyes.

“I’m afraid I all but destroyed it, I had it repaired and rebound.” Sherlock cleared his thought, seemly trying to sustain his composed stance “You were so kind to me the last few days before I… went away. Kindness that I didn’t really deserve. And I’m sorry that it took a situation such as that for me to really see you, for what you are, not just your brilliance. I will be forever indebted to you for your acts of selflessness when I was nothing but selfish. That book helped me unmeasurable amounts, because you were right; it reminded me of home and, well, what I had and what I could lose.”

Molly traced her fingers alone the spine of her old copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen. She’d loved the book since she first read it as a teenager, she also knew that Sherlock would hate it. When he showed up at her flat in those early hours just after his death, covered in ran and fake blood, she had to try _something._ She never gave him it for the plot, nor with the hope that he would even read it; she just knew that sometimes Sherlock needed more than his mind for company, and that she understood how much of a dark place his mind could be a times. She gave him a choice to escape his reality.

Whilst Molly was still admiring her old friend she began to speak “Sherlock-“

“Molly.”

“What is this, Sherlock?”

“I don’t know how to do this” Sherlock looked at Molly with such agony.

“Just don’t. Don’t say anything unless you fully understand what you’re saying.” Molly’s voice got caught up within its own words. She was no longer shedding a gentle tear but now they streamed down her face. The lump at the back of her throat disabling any ability to speak.

Sherlock looked around him, as if what he needed to say would spontaneously appear. His eyes landed on Molly’s book, and then he focused them back onto her _“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.-_ I cannot say it any finer.”

“Sherlock, are you saying-“

“Yes.”

“I know you feel like it’s required of you to do wonderful things like this to make amends for you being in my life but Sherlock, what you have never understood is that all I’ve ever wanted is _you_. I fell in love with _you._ If you promise me that you’re serious about this, about, about us, then I’ll do everything in my power to never question it again. But if having you as a friend is all that I’m ever going to get then I’m okay with that too. As long as you’re part of my life.”

“But I’m not.” Sherlock’s stare was intense, his eyes burning into Molly’s

“What?”

“I-I can’t be friends with you. I distance myself from my emotions because I know that once I begin to feel I can’t stop. And I’ve tried Molly, I tried for so long, but I’m not strong enough to resist you. I’m selfish enough to endanger you by simply having you in my life and that terrifies me. I can’t promise you everything, I can’t promise you normality. But I can offer you the only thing I have. Me.” Sherlock’s eyes dropped to his lap. This was hard enough without seeing the woman he loved crying.

“Okay.” Sherlock’s eyes darted up to meet Molly’s once again.

“Ah, I hope everything’s to your satisfaction. From what I can gather I see the candles doing its trick-“

“Angelo, we won’t be needing desert. Sherlock, can you get the car ready?” He simply nodded, although not fully understanding what was happening.  

Molly stood first, quickly followed by Sherlock. She made her way over to Angelo and kissing him gently on his right cheek, making the old man graciously blush.

Making their way out of the building, and waiting for their car to arrive Molly turned her attention to her flower cuttings, holding it up to Sherlock to receive some answers.

“Gypsophila. More commonly known as Baby’s Breath.”

Molly simply nodded in understanding and smiled at the ground. She gently ripped of a piece of the flower and placed it in Sherlock’s breast pocket “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's finished! Thank you all so much for your kind words, kudos and reads- I hope that you all enjoyed it, 
> 
> There will also be 2 addition pieces written that are mentioned in this fic, Sherlock and Molly's first conversation and their last just after his death. 
> 
> The quote is from Persuasion by Jane Austen 
> 
> Baby's Breath meaning in the language of flowers: everlasting love.


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